Prelude
by Rykea
Summary: A slightly diverse approach to the formulation of a bittersweet romance, based on the quote, 'Kisses are like tears. The only ones that are real are the ones you can't hold back.' [TezuFuji]


**Author's Notes:** Having formulated a "saga" of sorts in my mind while attempting to finish the TezuFuji love quote challenge I've taken, this marks the beginning to the series, properly entitled "Prelude." Derived from the love quote, "Kisses are like tears. The only ones that are real are the ones you can't hold back," I attempted to show somewhat of a bittersweet and simple side to this complicated relationship I've formulated for the two boys in my previous writings (which are technically later events in said saga). Regardless, I wanted to incorporate that tormented feeling I've given them in my other works, and show where such trials and pains have stemmed and grown from. All in all, enjoy.

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**Prelude**  
_By Rykea Night_

I'm not sure when my feelings of contentment turned to feelings of unfulfilled lust. For what seemed an eternity, those simple freshmen months, I had found a sense of loyalty in his words and an idiom of compassion within his facial expressions. He was silent, cold, and yet beautifully stunning. He was a friend, an equal. But soon such illusions passed through my fingers, and I saw beyond the gracious gestures. His movements turned to the liquid fragments of a reverie, his appearance to that of an unquenchable thirst. I felt my flesh burn with his casual touch, and even the slightest of whispers sent pleasurable shivers down my spine. The strife began to devour me, and I could only search the depths of my mind for the common feelings we had once embraced. But they had been consumed, tattered. Everything he and I once held, everything we took for granted—lost, lost to the grasping claws of my sinful soul. And if tore me apart.

Summer's flare grinding against the coming of dusk, I felt his eyes scrape over my back, the flesh burning with fright and anticipation. I stood lost and tormented, trying to ignore the quivers of my chest, the heat trapped within my throat. It was brutal, binding, and it killed that he never knew his eyes had such sensual power. Tormenting me ever so softly.

"Fuji!"

Lifting my glossy gaze, I shifted my stiff knees, reaction taking hold of my body as my forearm swiped at the ball, barely casting it back over the net. Catching the ball with graceful ease, Eiji only narrowed his sights, his pleasant face clouded by disappointment.

"Your game's horrible, to be frank." He sighed, pushing the lime torment into his pocket. "Actually, horrible is an understatement. What's eating at you?"

"Good question," I mused, running my left hand back through sandy tresses. "I haven't the faintest idea. The heat perhaps. Stress."

Skepticism bleeding into his features, he only cocked his head before waving his hand and retaking his position on the backline. "Last set, and we call it a day."

Mutely nodding in reply, I pulled my distant eyes from Tezuka's fading figure, forcing myself to let him walk away without my notice.

I missed Eiji's serve.

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Violet dust settling over the maroon skies, I gave Eiji the simplest of beams, urging him home without me. "I'll be alright," I confessed, racket held in my hand.

"It seems unfair though," he whined, positioning his hands behind his head. "Fuji-san stuck locking up the equipment rooms by himself."

Still gracing him with my plastic smile, I only shook my head. "It's fine, just go."

Seemingly distraught, he turned away, casting his hand over his shoulder in a wave as he sauntered down the crimson-tinted walkway. With a sigh, I let my frustration begin to eat away at me once again, each step towards the clubhouse a plunge into my own quicksand, each breath a choking scream. Entering the darkened abode, I collapsed against the door, my throat dry with hunger, my eyes brimming with tears. I wanted to scream, to bleed, to burn. I wanted _him_.

Trapped within my own consumption, the lightest wisp of breath coiled over my ears, drawing my sights to the benches across the room. The figure of a boy stretched across the wood, his body sound, slender, barely moving. Cautiously, curiously, I gently treaded towards the sleeping corpse, having my heart torn at and my eyes bewitched. Fair skin pulled over sharp features, his hunter locks framed his elegant face, his glasses removed, forgotten. Unconsciousness nipping at his mind, I felt myself kneel before him, my eyes captivated by his soundless form. The slightest murmur of breath escaping his darkened lips, I fell prey to that sound, that sight, letting my lips drift towards his unconscious state. I selfishly let myself go.

A hand grasping hard at my wrist, my breath froze in my mouth with the movement, my eyes locking with his hunter gaze. Feeling his breath trembling against my flesh, I swallowed hard, words escaping my mind. But before I could react, he pulled me into him, lightly pressing his chapped lips against my own. Flesh melting into flesh, he pushed against me, running his tongue over my teeth, letting it disappear into the depths of my mouth, letting it tangle with my own. Saliva pulsating within me, we gasped within our embrace, sensuality and lust pouring into me, into him.

Breathless, he released me, letting me fall away to the floor with my own shock, my own compulsion. Hot saliva trickling down my throat, painful emotions tore at my chest, and my vision blurred with crystal tears.

"You're crying," he whispered, kneeling before me, turning my chin with his elegant touch. "Why?"

"You knew," I mouth in reply, liquid streaming down my cheeks, salt tainting my tongue. "But why? Why now? Why us…"

But before I could reply, he wrapped his arms around me, brining me once against into his oral embrace, his flesh hot and vivid, pulsing against my own. And, trapped within our vicious melting of mouths, I realized the sins of the soul were not mine alone. They belonged to us both.

Then, now, and always.

_La fin._


End file.
